


Carpe Noctem

by ofslytherinsandgryffindors



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-12 07:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2101464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofslytherinsandgryffindors/pseuds/ofslytherinsandgryffindors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Golden Trio are back at it again as new Horcruxes start popping up all over London. Naturally, they enlist London's finest to help them with the quest, and encounter Team Free Will on a bust. First multifandom crossover fic, no judging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prequel

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: there were many sleepless nights, spilled cups of tea, hysterical sobbing, and so much love put into this fanfic. We hope you enjoy like we did.  
> -Vi

It was a cold, December night in London, England. Darkness covered the city like a thick blanket, wrapping the inhabitants in sleep and dreams. The moon hid behind dense clouds, and a biting breeze blew through the streets. The moon suddenly made his appearance, shining brightly through the clouds and illuminating an old, dirty street.

A cloaked figure hurried along the cobbles, hood falling over the face and cloak billowing out behind. The shadow reared up onto the walls, twice as large as the figure and twice as threatening. They came to the end of the street and stopped in front of a narrow, run-down building. Looking around cautiously, they knocked quietly on the door and waited.

Seconds passed, the door opened just a crack, and the cloaked figure slipped inside, unseen. The house was unlit and damp, with mould growing around the doors and windows. It was small, so small that the hooded figure had to duck their head as they crept into the room at the end of the hall. The lack of light was no issue; they were used to the dark. Welcomed it, more like.

They closed the door lightly and paused, holding their breath.

“You’re late.” The voice, cold and bored, came from a large armchair in the centre of the room.

The moon gleamed in through the open window, allowing in a little light. The figure in the cloak rushed to kneel in front of the armchair, head bowed. “I came as quickly as I could, my Lord,” the agent mumbled, staring at the floor. “There was….trouble….on my journey. I had to create a diversion.”

Long, spindly fingers reached out and pulled the agent’s chin up to face him, and the hood fell back.

“Holmes?” The voice asked, interested. The cloaked figure nodded, adjusting the hood as they stood up.

“I threw him off. Gave him a double homicide in Manchester that should keep him busy until I get back.” The figure in the armchair nodded with approval.

“Now, my apprentice, we have a lot to discuss. There is something I want you to do.” The apprentice stood eagerly and pushed the cloak aside, revealing a wand tucked into their belt.

It was used to pull up a chair, and the figure sat staring in awe at the figure in the armchair. “I will do anything, my Lord, anything at all.” “I expect no less. Now, there may come a time when I will no longer be around to teach you…”


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: So this is the first official chapter! It’s set 10 years after the Prequel, so please enjoy, and don’t forget to drop us a review and tell us what you think!

-Vi and Livy

 

John was woken by the door to 221B Baker Street slamming shut, and heavy footsteps on the stairs. Yawning, he sat up and wearily rubbed his eyes. Sherlock was home.

As he went about making the bed and getting dressed, he could hear Sherlock in the kitchen, the kettle boiling, mugs clinking together. With a sigh, he checked his phone. One text, from Mary:

“Living like this is pointless. We need to come to a decision, and I have something very important to tell you. Call me when you get this, please. M x”

John tucked the phone in his pocket, licked his lips nervously, and left his room.

When he got to the lounge, Sherlock was pacing up and down, muttering to himself under his breath. He heard John enter and pointed to the table. “Coffee.” John nodded a thanks and settled in his chair with a sigh. “You finish the case?” 

He asked, reaching for the newspaper. “Yes, of course I finished the case, I wouldn’t be back here if I hadn’t.”

“And? What was the result?”

“Well if you’d have come with me you would know, wouldn’t you?” John looked up and saw Sherlock frowning at him from the desk. 

“Don’t be such a child, Sherlock, and tell me what happened.” 

Sherlock scowled and threw himself into the chair opposite John, grabbing an older newspaper and crossing one leg over the other. “I was right, it was the gardener and his wife. Lestrade took them down to the station earlier, I caught the first train back.” 

John rubbed his temples. 

"Wife troubles?" Sherlock said, without looking up from the paper.

"Oh no. You are not doing this to me, not right now." John growled, sipping his coffee. Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Your ring is off, but the skin area is still pale, so I'm guessing it's only recently been taken off. Your phone is in your right pocket, and you repeatedly check the screen, but when you shut it off you seem to relax. Anxious for a message. You’ve also been staying over here more often than usual, as if you’re not welcome in your own home," Sherlock said. "Need I go on?"

"I would have no problem denting those nice cheekbones of yours." He sipped more coffee to prevent himself from doing the aforementioned.

Sherlock rolled his eyes again and wandered over to his laptop. “If I found a case, you would join me, or are you too busy sulking over Mary?”

"Sherlock. I'm dead serious. Push me one more time. Do it. Please."

“It’s not my fault your marriage is going downhill. Do you want a case or not?” Sherlock retorted, not looking up from his computer screen. John took a deep breath and closed his eyes. 

“Find one that’ll take a few days, at least.” Sherlock smirked as John grabbed his phone. 

“On a case. Might take a few days. I’ll call you soon. JW x”

Sherlock frowned in confusion as John turned his phone off and drained the coffee from his mug. “Is that all Mary gets? A text?” 

John scowled down at the newspaper in his hands. “It alright if I stay here for a week or so?”

“Of course, but John? You can’t keep this up for much longer. Sleeping over here some nights and at your house for others, giving Mary brief texts and phonecalls, hunting for cases purely to avoid her. It’s not a marriage, John-”

“Oh shut up, Sherlock, you’re the not one to lecture about relationships, considering you’ve never had one!” Sherlock pressed his lips together in a thin line. 

“I had Janine.” Sherlock said after a considerable amount of thought.

“For Christ’s sake, you were going to marry her for a lead!”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “It was necessary at the time.”

“You know, you really live up to the whole sociopath thing.” John snapped.

“I just want to know why.” Sherlock said, his brow furrowing. “You have a beautiful wife that adores you, and yet you ignore her, avoid her, and are so obscenely against spending any time with her at all.” He said, questioningly. “There is absolutely no reason why. So do explain to me, John.”

“Oh, finally, something you can’t answer yourself.” John snarled. “You wouldn’t get it. You don’t fall in love, Sherlock. You’d never understand.”

For some reason, the comment made Sherlock feel a pang of emotion, but this time it was sadness. Has he actually hurt me? Sherlock wondered. He wasn’t familiar with the emotion and it struck him rather oddly.

“Fine. Ignore your wife. Avoid her. See where it gets you.” Sherlock snapped back, surprising John. It was strange of Sherlock to show emotions of any kind. John must've really pissed him off.

John sighed. "I’m sorry. Look, I appreciate your concern, but right now the only thing I want to do is work. Please." 

Sherlock rocked back on his chair and studied John for a moment. His well kept hair and best clothes told outsiders he was doing just fine. However, there were small wrinkles around his eyes and sometimes his hands shook slightly. His eyes darted nervously around the room, as if he was always on edge. And he barely smiled anymore. Sherlock felt...was it sadness? He didn't like seeing John like this. It bothered him.

"Alright," Sherlock agreed, leaning towards the computer screen. "I have an email from three young adults, asking for help recovering seven items of great importance. Claim the world will suffer horrendously if they fail." 

John pursed his lips. "What do you reckon? Sounds like our thing?" 

Sherlock looked over at him and grinned. "Isn’t that all we ever do?"


	3. Chapter 2

It was raining by the time they apparated into a damp alleyway not far from Baker Street. It was early afternoon but the dull, grey sky refused to let the sun peak through, and the rain drizzled down lazily, hanging in the air and dampening London’s mood. The usual buzz of the city had quietened; nobody wanted to go out on a rainy Saturday afternoon.

“Where’d you say this Holmes guy lives?” Ron Weasley asked, shoving his cloak into a small beaded bag. 

Hermione scowled. “As I said before; Consulting Detective William Sherlock Scott Holmes, the only consulting detective in existence, lives at 221B Baker Street. He goes by Sherlock Holmes normally, but I’ve been following his work for about a year now and did some research. If anybody can help us find the horcruxes, he can.” She explained. “He’s a bit of a celebrity here in Britain.” She added as an afterthought.

“Never heard of him.” Ron retorted.

“Of course you didn’t. But he’s an expert on what most wizards lack immensely.”

“And what would that be? Exceptional cheekbones?”

“I was going to say logic.” Hermione responded, doing her best to suppress a grin. “Seems you’ve done your research.” Ron turned redder than his hair.

Harry frowned, and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You honestly believe that we can get a muggle, with no exposure to wizardry, to quietly help us find seven horcruxes when we, as wizards, can barely locate them, and having to spend half our time explaining to him about Voldemort’s little successor and horcruxes?” 

Hermione stood a little straighter indignantly. “Yes. Yes I do. And if we were to enlist the help of any muggle or trust them with wizarding secrets, it would be him. Now are you coming or not?”

Ron chuckled and entwined their fingers together. “Yeah, course we are.”

They arrived to a door that read “221B”. Harry raised a hand, and said a silent prayer before knocking three times.

An agreeable, mousy little woman answered the door. “Hello, dears.” She said cheerfully. Then she frowned. “Are you here to see Mr. Watson and Mr. Holmes?”

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. 

“You all look a little young to be wrapped up in murder.” She said, surveying them all.

“Murder?” Harry asked, shooting Hermione a surprised glance. 

“Harry, the man is a homicide detective. What were you expecting, kittens and flowers?” Hermione asked sharply.

Mrs. Hudson chuckled. “I like you. I used to be a young whippersnapper like you. Well, come inside, I’ll let them know you’re coming up.”

The three entered the pristine apartment, and filed themselves up the stairs. A wonderful little melody on violin floated down to greet them. 

They entered the living room. Sherlock sat at the window, lightly playing his violin. However, he did not seem alerted by their presence. Rather, he finished the piece, then relaxed his shoulder. Harry cleared his throat.

“Welcome. I assume you are the three with the inquiry of locating seven, very dangerous objects?” He asked, not turning around.

“That would be us.” Harry said, with a hint of annoyance. Who was this arrogant arse?

“Please, have a seat. My partner should be out of the bathroom soon.” He cast a glance at the white door. “Now, please explain your predicament.”

Harry looked at the other two, and gulped. The moment of truth. Right now, they would be committing pure wizarding treason.

“We...” Harry trailed off. “We are wizards. But what we are after has traveled into your...realm, so to speak.”

To the threesome’s shock, all Sherlock did was raise an eyebrow. “Hmm. If you don’t mind, I would like a little bit of proof. Just so I know what I’m dealing with.”

Hermione took out her wand eagerly. “Expecto patronum.” She murmured. A little silver otter slipped from her wand, and swam around Sherlock’s head. To his own surprise, he smiled, and reached out to pet the silvery surface of the animal. “Incredible.” He murmured. 

“Wait.” Ron interjected, shocked. “No freakout? No ‘what in the name of bloody hell is happening’? No madness, no-”

“Just to inform you, my brother is high-up official in the government, with access to files that no other human on the face of the planet has ever read or heard of. And more than once, he has been dealt with the task of cleaning up after what some of your kind has left behind. Not all muggles are as oblivious as you care to claim.” Sherlock said curtly. “And, no offense, some of you are very messy.”

Hermione smiled sheepishly. 

“It’s more my partner you’re going to have to convince. And before you ask, yes, it is necessary that he knows.” Sherlock said. “Now, for him, if you could set his shirt tail on fire, that would be absolutely fantastic. He’s in a bit of a damp mood.” 

Almost on cue, John walked out from the hallway. “Ah, you must be the ones after the world saving thingies. Dr. John Watson.” He greeted them kindly.

“Well?” Sherlock said, with an expectant tone. “Tell him, too.”

“We’re...wizards.” Harry explained again. “And the things we want have travelled into your world.”

“Oh great, more drug addicts.” John muttered.

“Excuse me?” Ron said defiantly. Hermione grabbed his arm. 

“We’re not joking. This is real, Mr. Watson.”Harry said, trying not to be offended. This was probably not far from a usual reaction.

“That’s impossible. Magic is not real. Wizards aren’t real. Now, what are you? Some kind of new breed of teenager. Go on, get out of here.”

Harry lifted his phoenix wand from his pocket. “Watch.” He said quietly. He pointed it to the kitchen, and lifted the tea kettle. Her tilted it so it poured some water into a teacup. He then lightly put the kettle down and dropped a tea bag into it. He levitated the tea cup and sat it beside John with a thunk.

“See?”

John’s mouth was agape.

“See, you made his morbid little day.” Sherlock said hurriedly. “Now, please explain the predicament more.”

“We are after something called horcruxes. Seven of them to be precise. Horcruxes are everyday objects, but hide a piece of a soul within them. Yes, souls.” Harry said, in answer to John’s widened eyes.

“Bu-bu-bu-”

“Shh, John, it’s just getting interesting.” Sherlock said, waving an impatient hand in John’s face.

“Anyways, the horcruxes enable a person to essentially be immortal. That is, unless the horcruxes are destroyed. That isn’t particularly easy. Horcruxes, because they contain a person’s soul, are usually surrounded by incredibly dark precautionary spells and enchantments.” Harry shuddered, remembering the one he encountered with Dumbledore when reaching the locket. 

“This particular person must have hidden theirs in the muggle world, because there is no detection of them in ours. However, out here they will be harder to find.” Hermione finished. 

“I see.” Sherlock said, nodding. “My only two questions are whom these objects belong to and why is the world’s safety in question.”

Hermione took a deep breath. “There used to be....a tyrannical wizard that went by the name of Voldemort. He believed in purification of our race and pure domination of the Muggle world. A wizard Hitler, if you will.” Sherlock nodded. She continued. “However, he died a few years ago, thanks to Harry.” She looked harry, who gave a small smile.

“So you better thank that bloke right there that you are not in chains suffering right now.” Ron said sharply. Hermione whacked him on the arm, and he winced. “Manners, Ron! Anyways, he died, but a recent stream of tortures and deaths, committed by former Death Eaters, his old followers, has led us to believe that he had a successor whom he trained incredibly well, and this successor is picking up where his master left off. We are not sure of whom said successor is, but we need to find those Horcruxes and destroy them immediately.”

Sherlock nodded. “Sounds like a right mess you all are in.”

“You alright, mate?” Ron asked, looking at John. He had turned a deathly white.

“Wi-wizards?” He asked.

“Yes John, keep up please.” He leaned into the three. “Sorry, he usually isn’t like this, bad bout with the wife.”

Hermione nodded. “One more thing.” 

“What’s that?”

“We don’t have lodging. We’d hate to ask, but-”

“It’s fine. You three can have our bedrooms, and me and John can sleep out here. Hermione opened her mouth to protest. “Don’t worry about it.” He liked the girl- she had a fair head on her shoulders and seemed to know what she was doing. Besides, he himself was a massive know-it-all.

“I need a drink.” John muttered.

“No drinking on the job. Now, I’m going to need you to start describing these objects in the greatest detail you have.”

"We believe the first two are here in London." Hermione began.


	4. Chapter 3

Night had fallen upon London and the only house with light still streaming from the windows was 221B. Midnight was approaching, and the decision to put work aside and continue in the morning had not yet been reached. 

Ron sat on the sofa next to John, making cups levitate and sending books spinning. John was still adapting to the concept of magic, and felt like his eyes had been opened to a new world. He kept asking Ron to levitate this and burn that and could he possibly make a cup of coffee without getting up off the sofa. Ron found his ignorance hilarious, and did anything he asked. After all, Hermione was all wrapped up with Raven Locks over there.

Hermione, Harry and Sherlock stood at the table, studying papers and maps that Hermione had pulled out of her small beaded bag. The bag alone and nearly caused John a fit - "How the bloody hell can you fit all of that in there?!" - and now they were attempting to narrow down the location of the first horcrux. 

"The first horcrux is disguised as an ancient artefact, hidden in the London Museum," Harry said as his fingers landed on the museum on the map. "There's a strange amount of activity going on there, so we want to check there first. We're not sure which artefact it will be, but no doubt it will have a muggle repelling charm on it, so any muggle with an interest wouldn't want to touch it or get too near it."

Sherlock nodded, a finger pressed to his lips. "How will you destroy it?" He muttered, drawing a red circle around the museum. 

"We've got everything we need to destroy it," Hermione answered, patting the beaded bag. "It's a certain type of venom, you won't have heard of it."

"The plan," Harry interrupted. "Is to take you and John to the museum. The muggle repelling spell should ward you away from one item in particular, and that's the one we want."

"Hold on a minute," John piped up from the sofa. "Say we find this...this artefact or whatever it is. It's in the Museum of London! What are you going to do, steal it?" 

There was an awkward pause as the trio made eye contact. Sherlock raised his eyebrows, and gave a crooked smile. For the second time that day, John's mouth popped open. 

"You are kidding! Steal from the Museum of London?! Do you want to wind up in prison?!" 

Sherlock chuckled. "Come now, John, we've done a lot worse. And a lot harder."

Ron stood up and put a hand on John's shoulder. "Look mate, if it's any consolation, we know what we're doing. When we were hunting Voldemort's horcruxes we broke into the Ministry of Magic. That's the equivalent of you breaking into Buckingham Palace." John lowered himself back down onto the sofa, pale-faced once more. 

"If it helps, I once came to the palace only dressed in a sheet." Sherlock thought for a moment.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Alright then."

"Wonderful. A Rate criminals, we're working with."

"John, if you want no part in this I understand." Sherlock muttered from his position at the table. "By the sounds of it, this case could take weeks, maybe even months. You can't leave Mary for that long, the baby will be born soon and she needs her husband by her side."

Hermione looked up, smiling. "Oh, your wife is pregnant, Mr. Watson? Congratulations!" John smiled a genuine smile. "Thank you, Hermione. And please, it's just John." 

The doorbell rang suddenly, and they all froze. They heard Mrs. Hudson shuffling towards the front door, and the trio ran into the centre of the room, wands at the ready and pointing at the door. "John, Sherlock, get behind us." Harry said quietly as they heard the front door open. 

"Don't tell me you were followed!" Sherlock hissed as he grabbed John and ducked behind the sofa, retrieving John's gun from the table as he did so. Ron frowned. "We thought we were in the clear."

There were footsteps on the stairs and they heard Mrs. Hudson call out, "Sherlock, you've got another one!" Ron gulped and pushed himself slightly in front of Hermione protectively. The door creaked open, and the trio raised their wands in anticipation. 

"Harry?" A ginger head popped around the door frame nervously, teeth biting on her bottom lip. The trio froze, stunned. "Ginny!" Harry breathed, lowering his wand, a smile spreading over his face. The ginger girl at the door grinned, and slithered in, closing the door quietly behind her. She ran to Harry and threw her arms around him. Hermione and Ron let out a sigh of relief, and Sherlock popped his head up from his hiding spot. 

"You know the girl?" He asked, putting the gun down and dragging a very confused John onto his feet.  
Ron smiled, taking his turn to hug her. "Yeah, she's my sister." Ginny grinned happily, and gave Hermione a warm hug. "I can't believe you were going to leave me behind! How many times have I told you that I'm part of this!" The accusation was pointed at Harry, who gulped nervously. 

"Ginny, if anything happens to you-"

"It won't, ok? I've got you three, after all. Besides, Mum was going stir crazy, I had to get out." Ginny smiled kindly and pecked Harry's cheek. "So. Introductions?"

Ginny was introduced to Sherlock and John, hands were shook and tea was poured. When Ginny eventually fell asleep on Harry's shoulder they decided to call it a night. Harry and Ginny took John's room, and Ron and Hermione took Sherlock's.

As Sherlock was getting the living room ready for them to sleep in, John stepped outside into the quiet street. His fingers shook as he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed his wife's number. Of course, he got sent straight to the voicemail; nobody was awake at this time of night. So John left a message, a message that would change his life completely.

"Mary, it's John. I've been thinking about what you said, and I've come to a decision. Sherlock and I have caught a case, and we'll be on it for a pretty long time, so now is my only chance to say it before the baby is born. Mary....this isn't working. I don't know why, it's just not. I know we've only been married two years and I know we're going to have a child together but....I'm sorry, I just can't anymore. I....Mary, I think we should get a divorce. None of this is your fault, and I still love you in a way, and we'll make amazing parents. We're just not a good couple anymore. I'm so sorry. Call me when you get this."


	5. Chapter 4

The museum didn't open on Sundays, which left the group with the perfect opportunity for a robbery. The plan was to apparate in, locate the horcrux, grab it and disapparate back to 221B. It should take them no longer than an hour, much to John's relief.

John seemed to have settled down quite quickly. Sherlock noticed how his eyes followed the wizards around the room, how he watched in awe as they made coloured sparks fly out of their wands for him. Now that he had had time to adjust, John was mesmerised by magic, all worries forgotten. 

"Right, is everybody ready?" Hermione asked, burrowing the beaded bag under her cloak and pulling her hair back into a ponytail. They all nodded. "Good," Harry smiled, his arm around Ginny's waist. "John, you'll be apparating with me, and Sherlock, Hermione's going to be taking you. It won't be a pleasant experience, mind you; hold your breath and please, try not to throw up."

Sherlock and John shared a worried glance before going to stand next to their designated partners. "Well, see you in a second," Ron said. He grabbed Ginny's arm, winked at Hermione, twisted on the spot and was gone. John blinked rapidly and confusion smothered his face. "What....where are they now?"  
"At the bank, waiting for us," Harry replied, grabbing onto his arm. "Hold on tight." Hermione took Sherlock's arm, and both couples twisted into thin air.

They landed heavily in the museum reception, directly next to Ron and Ginny. "Well, that wasn't too bad, was it?" Hermione grinned at Sherlock, who was swaying slightly on the spot. He swallowed before saying "It wasn't the most pleasurable experience."

John had turned an odd shade of green, and was clearly struggling to remain on his feet.

"I'm good, I'm good." He said in response to Ron's questioning look.

"I keep forgetting you guys have never apparated. At least you've never been splinched." Ron winced, remembering his shoulder.

"Splinched? Sounds nasty." John asked. So far, the redhead was the only one he slightly got along with.

"Splinched. Leaving part of yourself at your previous location."

John turned green again.

"Ron, you're scaring him!" Hermione reproached. Ron threw his arms up.

"He asked!"

"All of you, shut up." Harry growled. "This is serious. Hermione, did you bring everything?"

She nodded. She pulled out two vials of muddy-looking liquid.

"Okay, John and Sherlock- we are going to get the hairs of two security guards, so we can add them to the Polyjuice potion, which is a shape-shifting potion. This way, we blend in and have easy access to anywhere in the building. We need you to lure at least two of them out here so we can temporarily take their place."

Sherlock nodded and John looked like he was gonna throw up again.

"Try to find two of high status, so we look less strange."

Sherlock nodded again. "Come on John, let's perform an art heist."

They walked through the large, magnificent doors. Immediately, they starting scanning the museum for possible targets. 

"Your three o'clock." John said quietly. Sherlock glanced out of the corner of his eye, where a burly security guard with thick black hair stood.

"Your ten o'clock." Sherlock replied. John glanced to his left and saw a female one with dark brown hair.

"Okay. Now for the luring part." John said, affirmed. He sighed. Guess we can add art thief to the resume now.

"How are we going to do that?" Sherlock replied.

"Elementary, Holmes." John said with a smirk, striding off.

"Wait, that's my line!" Sherlock said indignantly, following his partner.

Suddenly, John clutched at his chest. "Oh my god!" He cried hoarsely. "I'm having a stroke!"

The two security guards turned around to look, confusion plastered over their faces. 

"Sherlock, help me out here." John growled under his breath.

Sherlock gave a little nod before taking off towards the guards.

He put on his best begging face. "Please help me, my boyfriend is having a stroke!" Sherlock pleaded.

John still lay convulsing, and now dearly wished he could give Sherlock a good smack. Sherlock came back to his side. 

"Boyfriend? Really? People still recognize us, you know." John hissed.

"At least I came up with something. Now keep having a stroke, hubby." Sherlock hissed back as the security guards came running over.

"I'm need help getting him to a hospital, would you two mind escorting me out and calling an ambulance?" Sherlock asked sweetly. The two nodded; Sherlock took one glance at them and saw that they weren’t too intelligent. They hadn’t even questioned why two grown men were in the museum on its closing day.

He helped John through the doors of the museum.

"Stupefy." Hermione whispered softly. The two guards collapsed, and John said a quick, silent prayer. 

Ron yanked three hairs from the guy, and Hermione two from the girl. They dropped them into corresponding vials, which bubbled and changed color: Ron a disgusting shade of green, and Hermione a decent shade of orange.

"Are you sure this safe?" Sherlock asked, eyeing the potions warily.

"Completely. We did it as second years." Hermione huffed, holding her head a little higher. She gave a knowing look to Ron. "Bottoms up."

They glugged down their potions in one shot, and immediately their features began to contort and distort. John gripped the wall for balance, and was surprised when Sherlock put a hand on his shoulder to keep him upright.

Soon, both of the security guards were standing before them. Ron grinned. "Ta da!"

"That's absolutely incredible." Sherlock said, studying the two. “Remarkable…” 

"And what about you two?" John asked Ginny and Harry. Harry pulled out a long, thin, graying cloak.

"Ginny is our lookout, and I get to wear this." Harry squeezed Ginny’s hand reassuringly and cast the cloak over himself. Instantly, he disappeared. John's eyes widened. 

"What-Harry-" John asked. He waved his hand through the mass, and struck something hard, like the air had suddenly turned solid.

"Ow!" The solid air cried out. Harry's head popped out of the cloak, hovering disturbingly in the air. "I'm still here!"

"Oh, right. Sorry." John apologized, clearing his throat looking around nervously.

Harry pulled it back over himself. "Hurry." His disembodied voice spoke to Ron and Hermione. "The potion will only last for a short while. We have to find it before then." They nodded and Ron checked the security guard’s watch. “We’ve got exactly one hour before the potion wears off and they wake up,” he said. “Let’s make this quick.”

The three entered the museum, looking round. 

"Alright. Muggle repelling, dark aura. Harry, you used to have a good knack for finding these." Hermione whispered as they moved quietly through the abandoned halls.

"That was back when I had a connection with Voldemort. But maybe I’ve still got it….Look for anything that has an unnecessarily dark aura around it."

The two nodded. They checked to make sure John and Sherlock were still following. “You guys feeling repelled from a certain area yet?” Both men shook their heads.

Time passed, and the group began to worry. Their hour was nearly up, and they still hadn’t had any luck. 

With ten minutes to go, they came across a set of doors marked "EMPLOYEES ONLY, ITEMS NOT FOR DISPLAY". Sherlock suddenly took a step back, while John made no movement.

"Sherlock? You alright?" He asked, suddenly worried. The rest of the group turned to watch.

"Yeah, I just....I feel like that I shouldn't go in there. Like there's something in there I'm not supposed to see. Let’s look somewhere else."

"Well, it is marked for employees only." Ron muttered. "This is it, it must be here."

Hermione frowned suddenly. “Something isn’t right. That door has a powerful muggle repelling charm on it, right? Sherlock’s been affected, but why hasn’t John?”

The group all turned and laid eyes on John. John shrugged. "I dunno. Doesn't seem any different to me." They stared at him like he had grown another head. "Don't look at me like that, you're the damn wizards!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “John, only wizards aren’t affected. This is powerful magic, more powerful than the average repelling spell. Who knows, Voldemort himself might have cast it before he died.”

Harry shuddered at the thought. "Let's not contemplate that. But she's right. John, there’s something off here. Are you aware of any wizards or witches in your family tree?"

John scoffed. "I think I would know if any members of my family could spontaneously set things on fire."

Hermione bit her lip. “I’ll do some research when we get back. But right now, we’re running out of time.”

They pushed open the door, and were greeted by probably one of the strangest sights any had ever seen.

They were greeted by a small, dark room, with dusty shelves reaching from floor to ceiling. They all walked in cautiously, leaving Sherlock outside. 

Harry managed to get a glimpse of an old vase in a glass case at the back of the room before his vision was blocked by two large security guards looming out from the dark. The group stumbled back, and the wizards raised their wands. 

“Oh my word…” Hermione gasped. “What, what’s wrong?” Ron asked, grabbing her arms. Hermione was shaking, and had turned completely white. “Their eyes….look at their eyes….” With an impending sense of dread, the group stared into the faces of their oppressors, and saw their reflections gleaming back at them in dark, coal black eyes.


	6. Chapter 5

“On your left!” A low voice suddenly cried. Three figures came barreling through the door, pushing Sherlock and the rest of the group out of the way. Sherlock hit the wall with an audible thud, and John raced to his side. Harry’s cloak slid off him partially, revealing a strip of his eyes.

“Who the hell-” Ron bellowed. 

The tallest man started talking in an unfamiliar language as the other two men wrestled the black-eyed guards. One of the men managed to clasp his hand on top of a guard’s head, and orange light burst from his eyes and mouth. The guard’s screams filled the room for a second, and then his body dropped. The tall man continued to chant; there was still one guard left.

“I think that’s Latin.” Hermione whispered.

“Refrain from curses, they look like muggles!” Harry whispered.

Suddenly, the remaining black-eyed man threw the two men off of him and charged at Hermione. 

“Sorry, mate.” Ron quickly apologized. “Petrificus Totalus!” He yelled, and the black-eyed man dropped, suddenly stiff as a board. The three men stared at him.   
“What the hell was that?” One asked, raising a gun and pointing it at Ron. Ron raised his wand. 

“Careful, mate.” He growled, stepping in front of Hermione.

“Careful. They might be some strange demons.” The man with the gun said, watching Ron.

“They don’t look like anything I’ve ever seen.” The one in the trench coat said. “And I’ve seen a lot.”

The taller man finished his chant, and black smoke suddenly gushed from the guard’s mouth and burned into thin air. Now that the chant was over, he looked up and saw the situation. “Dean, I don’t think they’re dangerous,” he said quietly. “The demons were after them, too. C’mon man, put the gun down, they’re just kids.”

“Kids?” Hermione said indignantly. “I ought to-"

The three men surveyed the group. “Well, I’ve seen weirder.” The gruffer one sighed. All three men had American accents, and all three looked terrifying.

John walked over, gun in hand, with Sherlock on his tail. “Look, why don’t we all just calm down. Let’s drop the weapons, ok? Nobody here is the enemy.”

“Well, since we’re getting so friendly, I’m Dean, that’s my brother Sam,” he pointed to the tallest man. “The baby in the trench coat is Cas.” He pointed to Castiel, who glared pointedly at Dean and waved to the group. 

By now, the Polyjuice potion had fully worn off. Hermione and Ron were in clothes much too big for them, and still only Harry’s head was exposed. Sherlock was recovering from his head being smacked against a wall, and was leaning heavily on John.

“Hey. Aren’t you the consulting detective or whatever?” Sam asked. “I saw you on the news a while back, you faked your own death or something?” 

“That would be me. And I did in fact fake my death, it was rather tedious.” Sherlock said. “And you are the Winchester Brothers, aren’t you? You’re hunters?”

“Yeah...how did you know?” Sam asked, now wary.

“Word of strange things travels quickly. I worked a case with a man named Garth last year. He was a hunter and he just wouldn’t shut up about you both, so I did some research.”

At that moment, Ginny came running around the corner. “We’re out of time, those guards just woke up and more are on their way, we have to-” She froze and stared at Dean, Sam and Cas. Castiel stepped forward, smiling.

“Don’t worry, we’re not your enemy. My name is Castiel, these are my friends Sam and Dean Winchester. We’re here to help.” Dean cleared his throat pointedly. “Uh, actually, we’re here to smite demons. I don’t know what the hell kind of mess these guys are in, but its not our mess to clean up.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Can we fight later? We have to go, now!”

“Demons?” Hermione asked. “I think you guys are off. This is our territory-”

“Sweetheart, it’s quite obvious you’ve never seen a demon, because it’s possessed that nice little vase over there and attacked and possessed these security guards.”

Ginny ran past the group and into the room, right to the back. She broke the glass with her elbow, picked up the vase and shoved it into the beaded bag she had gotten from Hermione.

“No, that vase has a wizard enchantment on it, not ‘possessed’ or anything.” Hermione retorted, clearly frustrated and fed up. 

“Wizarding-oh man, you guys must be a new breed of dorks. Listen, kid, we’re just trying to do our job.” Dean argued.

“Dorks? I could hex you so that your head bent back so far it ended up your-” 

“Enough!” Sam yelled, making the group jump. “We have about 30 seconds to get out of here! Anybody got a plan?”

Ron glared at the three men, and rested on Dean a little longer than he should’ve. “We’ll help you out, sure. But we get the vase.” Dean opened his mouth to argue but a look from Sam silenced him. 

“Where are we going?” Castiel asked. “What’s the address?”

“221B Baker Street,” said Sherlock, frowning at Castiel. Suddenly he was gone, in the blink of an eye.

“Did he disapparate or something?” Ron frowned, grabbing onto Sam’s wrist. He looked around at the three men. “Hold your breath.” He twisted on the spot, and had disappeared, Sam too.

“Where the hell did he take my brother?!” Dean growled as Ginny gripped his arm. “Ow! Little lady, you got a tight grip.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” She said through gritted teeth.

“It’s fine. We’ll explain at the apartment. Though hopefully it goes over a little easier than with these two.” Harry, said, casting a glance to John and Sherlock. 

Hermione took a hold of Sherlock and Harry grabbed John, and all three couples twisted into thin air just as five security officers burst around the corner.


	7. Chapter 6

The group sat around the living room of 221B in complete silence. The majority of the room was in shock. They had returned safely and, after much cursing and arguing, had each explained why they were there and what their world was like. The only member of the faculty smiling was Castiel, who had been under the impression that wizardry had died out years ago and was now pleasantly surprised. After trying to ask questions and being told to shut it by Dean, he now sat in comfortable silence. The rest, however, were still adjusting. 

“Tea?” John asked awkwardly.

“Really, John?” Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Guess we’re in this together, then.” Ron said. He cleared his throat. “Our and your world are in incredible danger.”

“Ah. And you just expect us to just buy this bullshit?” Dean asked. Sam elbowed him.

“What he’s saying is....we would like some proof.”

Hermione humphed, not quite impressed by Dean’s attitude. “Oppugno.” She muttered with a smirk. Suddenly, the three teacups on the table began ferociously smacking Dean in the head like confused, porcelain birds. Castiel laughed and Sam did his best to suppress a smirk. Sherlock enjoyed the show thoroughly, but kept a straight face, while John let a few snickers slip through.

“Ow-ow-I get it, I get it!” Dean cried, grabbing a couch pillow and hitting them back. Hermione settled the teacups graciously back down onto their tray, and Dean glared at them, rubbing his head.

“What are you guys doing in England anyway?” Ginny asked. “If you’re hunters, shouldn’t you be sticking to your own territory?”

“Apparently, there’s a large outbreak of demonic signs and possessions here in London.” Sam explained. “There seem to be seven main spots, all distanced from each other, where demon activity is rising pretty quickly-”

“That’s it!” Harry cried. “It can’t be a coincidence.”

“Care to explain?” Sam asked politely. 

“That’s what he must be using for extra insurance. Demons.” Harry turned to Sam. “Alright, I’m about to go over this in great detail very quickly, I need you to keep up.”

The three nodded. 

“Okay, so we are from the Wizarding world. There once was a very powerful and tyrannical wizard- all for purification of blood and superior races and all that. He was defeated years ago, but a recent amount of activity from his former followers are leading us to believe that he had a successor who is carrying on his master’s work. He is using something we refer to as horcruxes to remain basically immortal. You split your soul into pieces and hide those pieces in an object of some kind, usually only or two, but this bloke has split his into seven. He must be employing the use of demons as further insurance for his horcruxes. He’s rather cunning-”

“And just who is this A-grade asshole?” Dean interrupted.

“We...we don’t know. That’s what we’re trying to figure out. That’s why we’re working with these guys.” He jerked his thumb at John and Sherlock, who looked weary. 

“So you’re telling me you have no idea who these things belong to, or who that person may be? Well that’s just fantastic.” Dean stood up, and starting pacing. “Why is this even important anyways?”

“Because if he succeeds, he will singlehandedly enslave the entire muggle world.” Hermione said quietly. 

Castiel leaned over to Dean and Sam. “By muggles she means people without magical powers, like you two, and Sherlock and John, and-”

“Yeah, thanks Cas, we get it!” Dean snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sam smiled reassuringly at Cas and then turned to face the group again. “Okay, so we’re all essentially working as a team now. You guys have no idea how to fight off demons and whatever the hell else is guarding these, uh, horcruxes. And we need you guys to track down the demons and destroy their central pieces, so…”

“So, looks like we’ll be staying in England for longer than we thought,” Dean murmured. “Just fantastic.”

A collective silence filled the room, and each member of the group was submerged into their own thoughts. Although nothing had been said, a silent agreement was formed; they were allies against a mutual enemy. Ginny rested her head on Harry’s lap, and Ron’s head lolled onto Hermione’s shoulder. Sam frowned and pointed at the couples questioningly, and Sherlock nodded. 

The silence was broken by Ron yawning loudly and Harry groaning as he stretched out his legs. Cas stood up and went to the window. “It’s getting late, he sighed. “Get some dinner and then rest; we have a lot of work to do in the morning.”

“No rest for the wicked, Cas,” Dean groaned, getting up and patting the angel’s back half-heartedly. “Like you said, we’ve got work to do.”

“Well, we’re gonna need some more sleeping bags.” John said. “I’ll ask Mrs. Hudson to start dinner soon.”

Despite Dean’s eagerness to continue work, after dinner the group began stretching and yawning, and slowly began returning to their appropriate lodgings. Before she entered her room, Hermione grabbed Dean’s arm.

“I wanted to apologize for that move earlier. It was juvenile and spiteful.”

Dean shrugged. “It’s fine, kid. I tend to piss a lot of people off” He paused. “And demons for that matter.”

Hermione chuckled. “Well, I guess none of it matters anymore. We’re a team now.”

“Oh, don’t start on me with all that goodwill shit. I’ll see you in the morning.” He laughed as she closed the door behind her. Ron was sitting up in bed, looking out the window. Hermione sat next to him.

“You alright?” She asked him. 

“I just....it’s all so scary. Just when you believe you’re done for good, you’re sucked right back in. This didn’t end well last time, for anyone.” He said wearily. “We lost so much last time this happened.”

Hermione sat in silence. She knew he was thinking of Fred, and with a pang, felt his grief. She swallowed, keeping her tears at bay. “Ron, I know. Believe me...part of me wanted to run away the moment we proposed this trip. But the other part of me reminded me that this is what I was born to do. And I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else than here, with Harry, Ginny, and you.” She placed a hand on his cheek and smiled weakly. “We’ll be okay.”

He smiled before going in for a passionate kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him lightly.

“Now let’s forget about this for a little while.” She whispered in his ear with a small smirk.

In the next room over, Harry lay down next to Ginny. They both faced each other, and she intertwined her fingers with his. He noticed there were tear streaks down her face.

“Ginny?” He whispered, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought it was over when we killed him.” She whispered. “I lost you once Harry...I couldn’t do it again. Never again.”

Harry leaned over and pressed his lips against her’s softly. “This time won’t be like last time, I promise.”

She smiled and snuggled into his chest. “I love you, Harry Potter.”

"I love you too, Ginny Weasley."

In the living room, John and Sherlock got ready for bed; John in the armchair and Sherlock on the couch. Sherlock noticed that John sat awake and alert. 

“Just so you know,” John said gruffly. “I appreciate your concerned about me and Mary. I...I called her last night. Left a voicemail. We’re er…..we’re getting a divorce.”

“I am not a marriage counselor.” Sherlock replied. He suddenly felt guilty about the quick response. “I’m sorry, John. I know this hasn’t ended the way you wanted it to, but you need to be honest with yourself. Honesty is the only way we’re solving any of this.” He paused, and there was silence. “But I truly am sorry. And.....and I am here. Always.”

“I’m not sorry. It needed to be done.” John replied curtly. “And...thank you. But you’ve always been here Sherlock...and I thank you for that.”

Sherlock nodded awkwardly, and buried himself underneath his duvet.

“Goodnight, John.” His muffled voice came from the couch. 

Castiel, Sam, and Dean were all lying on the kitchen floor in sleeping bags. Sam’s faint snores assured the other two that he was completely out of it.

“Dean?”

Dean sighed. “Yes, Cas?”

“I’m cold.”

“Aren’t you an angel? Does that stuff affect you?”

“For your information, temperature and climate changes do make us uncomfortable from time to time.”

“Well what am I meant to do about it? You don’t need sleep, I do.”

“Could you....come over here? Body heat is proven to be the best way to survive harsh winters. Until you invented fire and central heating, it was the only thing you could use. I remember watching you all evolve; the discovery of fire caused great distress amongst the angels, as you know-”

“Alright, alright, just shut up already.” Dean agreed gruffly. He picked up his sleeping bag and laid himself next to the angel, who had taken off the trench coat and was now in a white t-shirt.

“You need to be closer, being that far back makes no difference.” Cas said.

“I’m not spooning you, if that’s what you want.” Dean’s voice came from behind him. Cas turned onto his back and shuffled over, so that their sleeping bags could almost touch.

“I never said that. Just get closer.” Cas said in that purely analytical tone he saved for awkward subjects.

Dean huffed and scooted over, so that the sleeping bags slightly overlapped. Castiel’s head rested close to Dean’s, and through the sleeping bags their legs touched. 

“Night, Cas.” Dean said quickly, not wanting to disturb him.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

And with that, the inhabitants of 221B surrendered to sleep.


	8. Chapter 7

After breakfast, the group sat in a large circle in the living room. Maps and papers were strewn everywhere, and plates with bits of eggs and potatoes sat balanced on the arms of chairs and the sofa.

“So, we’ve pinpointed some of the demon activity, around several spots, including the one at the art museum.” Sam said, pointing at their map. Sherlock leaned over and crossed the museum out on the map.

“We’ve located three others.” Harry said, gesturing to his map where three pulsating red glowing dots sat on the map. “So far we’ve managed to locate four of the horcruxes, and, thanks to you guys, obtained one. Getting the other three shouldn’t be too difficult now we know where they are, we just have three left to locate and destroy.”

“But where’s the seventh?” John asked.

“That we haven’t located yet.” Dean answered. 

“It might be protected by extra-heavy enchantments.”Hermione murmured, poring over both maps. 

“How’re you going to destroy these things anyway?” Sam asked, frowning across at the four wizards. 

Hermione reached for her little beaded bag, out of which she pulled the vase and a cruel looking fang. 

“Basilisk venom.” She said. “We have more fangs, in case we lose this one.”

“Where in the good name of god-”

“You don’t want to know, believe me.” Hermione glanced across at Harry nervously, who nodded. She passed him both the fang and the vase, and the group instinctively shuffled back.

“When we were destroying Voldemort’s horcruxes, they put up a fight,” Harry warned, hovering the fang above the vase. “There’s no reason to think this one won’t either. Be ready.”

Harry looked to Hermione and Ron, who nodded. Harry took the fang, and plunged it downward. The vase broke apart with a high-pitched scream, and black smoke billowed from the wound. Sam backed up, forcing Dean and Cas behind him. The three hunters had already drawn their weapons.

The black smoke materialized into a human figure. Maybe human was the wrong word. It was a grotesque, distorted figure, with no possible facial features. It twisted around to face Harry, and pointed towards him as it spoke.

“You will lose.” It hissed. “The Dark Lord’s son is returning, young wizard. And you will not be as lucky this time.” And with that, it exploding into a flash of fire. Nothing was amiss, save for the broken vase before them. 

Harry dropped the fang with a sigh of relief, and Ginny flew into his arms. It was then that the realisation hit him; the last time she had seen a horcrux was as a first year in the Chamber Of Secrets. Who knew what kind of horrible memories this brought back for her?

The hunters disarmed, and Dean checked that everyone was okay. The remains of the vase was lathered with salt (to keep Dean happy) and thrown into the fire.

"And that was probably the weakest." Harry said, casting a knowing glance to Ginny, who gulped. 

"That thing is like a demon on steroids." Dean muttered. "Hey, Holmes, you got any hard stuff in here? I've had a long day."

Hermione's eyes widened. "It's only ten a.m!"

"Surly alcoholic. Told you." He turned to John. "You owe me £5."

“Hey!” Dean said indignantly. “You don’t owe him anything, I’m not an alcoholic!” Sherlock raised his eyebrows doubtfully, and Dean let out a groan of frustration. “Maybe I drink more than the average person does, but when you’ve been through what I have that’s understandable. I’ve got it under control.”

"True." John nodded. "I'm gonna need a solid pint or two after this mess." 

Sherlock studied Dean, narrowing his eyes. He nodded to himself. “Alright, a slight misjudgement on my behalf. Borderline alcoholic. You’ve got it under control...for now.”

Dean rolled his eyes and turned to John. “Have you got anything or not? Scotch, beer, anything.”

John shook his head. "Not here. But I say tonight we go out. I think we've earned it." He looked to the youngsters. "You guys are legal, right?"

"Of course." Harry nodded.

"But you guys are like, kids." Sam said, widening his eyes.

"Different drinking laws here, Sammy."

"That's messed up." Sam muttered. "But as long as we're legal, we're good."

Sherlock cleared his throat. “It’s all very well saying you can go out and get drunk and whatever you do, but the horcruxes are still out there, along with the demons and our mystery man, who may be more powerful than any other wizard we’ve known.”

"You must be fun at parties." Dean muttered.

Cas shrugged. “I agree with Sherlock. After my last drinking experience, I do not think I want to go through it again.”

Sherlock gave a small smile. “I see I’m not the only one with a sensible head on my shoulders."

"Ouch." Hermione reproached.

That made John roll his eyes. “Alright, I think you all got heads too big for your shoulders. Look, I’ve got to check on Mary, she hasn’t answered my calls and hasn’t replied to any of my texts. I think I’ve got some beers at my place anyway.” He grabbed his coat and moved towards the door. “I’ll be about an hour!” He called over his shoulder.

“Mary?” Sam asked, locking eyes with Dean. Dean shrugged.

“His soon-to-be ex-wife. She’s pregnant, 8 months.” Sherlock muttered, retreating to his computer. “He’ll be far longer than an hour, they have a lot to discuss.”

Hermione poked Castiel's shoulder nervously.

"Yes?" He responded. She blushed a deep dark red.

"Are you really an angel?" She asked in an awed hushed whisper.

He smiled proudly, and put a kind hand on her shoulder. "I am indeed. An Angel of God, to be precise."

"Do you....I feel very silly asking this."

"I'm sure I've heard stranger. I've been around since before mankind, nothing scares me much anymore."

She giggled like a little kid. "Can...can I see your wings? Please?"

He laughed. "Why didn't you say so?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Show off much?"

Cas grinned at the group and cleared his throat. Suddenly, the sun seemed to disappear behind the clouds and gale force winds shook the apartment. Lights flickered and a bulb popped, making Ginny shriek. All eyes were on Castiel.

On the wall behind him, the shadow of two, incredible wings took form, stretching out to fill the length of the wall. There was an audible gasp from the group as the wings fluttered briefly. Then the wind stopped, the light returned, and the wings were gone.

“That’s all I can show you I’m afraid,” Cas smiled at Hermione, whose jaw had dropped to the floor. “If a human looks at my true form their eyes burn out, and sometimes, sadly, they will die. Even my true voice causes great discomfort, as Dean found out before we met.”

"Let's avoid that, shall we?" Ron swallowed nervously, wrapping his arms around Hermione’s waist. Hermione, however, had the biggest, happiest grin on her face.

"My mum used to tell me about angels. Her favourite story was of once when she had just had me, and she came into to my room during a storm, one to rival any other, and there was a sweet angel perched on my crib, looking over me. I swore she was crazy, but now that I see you...maybe she wasn't lying." She babbled. 

Dean smiled, and this time it was different. It was the smile of a young boy, a boy filled with hope. “My mom used to say angels were looking over us, too. Every night, before I went to sleep.” He looked at Cas, who was smiling back at him, and their eyes locked. “I guess she was right.”

In the corner of the room, hiding behind his laptop screen, Sherlock quietly watched the interaction. When Dean and Cas turned to smile at one another, his eyebrows rose on his forehead and the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. He saw clearly what others seemed to miss, that had always been his talent. And what they were missing right now was pretty obvious, in his opinion.

"Hmm. The hunter and the angel. Sounds like a good book title." He murmured sweetly. 

Dean and Cas snapped out of their trace and glared at Sherlock. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked, sharply. Cas, however, turned a bright shade of red and looked away.

Sam placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Hey, calm down,” he said quietly. “The guy’s just messing with you. Right, Sherlock?”

Sam made eye contact with Sherlock and as Sherlock opened his mouth to retort that clearly, the angel and the hunter were more than friends, he realised that Sam had seen it too. He saw that Sam had known, or at least suspected, for a long time, and that he kept his silence, for his brother’s sake.

“Yes, of course,” Sherlock corrected himself, nodding to Sam. “Just a joke.”

Sam smiled back, nodded a thank you. Sherlock understood that Dean and Cas would have to figure this out by themselves.

Dean cleared his throat nervously. “Yeah, well, don’t tell jokes. They suck.”

"Maybe you're not an alcoholic, but you certainly play the part of 'surly' very well." Sherlock replied. 

Dean shrugged. “Touché.”


	9. Chapter 8

At a house a little farther downtown, John paced nervously in front of his own home.

"Come on, come on." He urged himself. "You can do this."

He steeled himself to knock on the door before rapping three times on the wood.

"Come in." Her voice came quickly. She probably knew he was there, pacing up and down like an idiot. Great.

John stepped inside. 

"I'm in the kitchen." She called out. It sounded hoarse and weak, like she hadn't slept in weeks. Goddammit John, what have you done?

He walked through the familiar hall, hanging his coat up on the peg and wiping his feet on the mat. 

"Mary? Are you alright?" He asked.

"Just come in." She said, irate.

He walked into the kitchen, and was greeted with a surprising sight.

She was thin again- well, thinner. 

His jaw dropped to the floor as the realisation hit him.

"Did you-did we-"

"Yes John, I had the baby. Without you." The venom in her voice was clear, and pierced John straight through the heart.

"Mary-Mary, I-"

"It's fine." She cut him off. “I er, tried calling when I went into labour about two weeks ago but I couldn’t get through. So I called an ambulance instead."

"No, it's not fine. I don't care if we're getting divorced. I should have been there." He starting pacing madly. "Oh god, I'm such a shitty person, I let my wife have a baby without me and my god-"

"Good god, calm down before you hurt yourself." She cried. For the first time, she gave a weak smile. "Look at me, John." He refused to look up. "Please."

He looked up, and she was right there in front of him, her smile radiating from her face.

"John, it's okay. You're busy saving the world from god knows what awful people. And...." She trailed off. "I haven't been much of a good wife. I'm mean. I'm secretive. You don’t really know who I am and one day it could get you killed. You deserve better. And I deserve better."

John cleared his throat to remove the lump that had formed. He nodded dumbly. “So, er….boy or girl?”

"A beautiful baby girl." She said, smiling widely. "Born five pounds, seven ounces, at precisely 9:14pm."

John burst out a grin to challenge Mary’s. “Can I see her?” Mary nodded, took his hand, and lead him up their stairs to the nursery they had been so excited to decorate 9 months ago. They walked into the little unfinished nursery together, and she brought him to a white crib. 

“There she is. Our daughter. Isn’t she beautiful?"

John reached down and picked up the little bundle. She giggled and reached out her tiny, wrinkled hand and John felt the tears coming on.

"Hello, pretty girl." He said quietly, rocking lightly back and forth. 

“I’ve already thought of a name, but if you don’t like it we can always change it.” Mary said quietly, holding the baby’s hand gingerly.

"What were you thinking?"

"Athena." She replied with a smile. "My grandma was Greek, and I wanted something Greek, so I went with Athena."

"Ah, for intelligence?" John inquired. Mary nodded.

"That," she replied, kissing the baby's forehead, "and because she's a fighter like her father. It also means warrior, you know."

John smiled down at his daughter and let a tear slide down his cheek. “Little Athena,” he whispered. “You’re gonna grow up so beautiful.”

John kissed Athena’s tiny hand and lowered her back into her crib. He leaned across and kissed Mary’s cheek. “We did good,” he murmured as she hugged him. She nodded, smiling. “There’s, er, something else we need to talk about,” she said quietly.

"And what would that be?" John asked, softly closing the door to the nursery.

"I...." She trailed off.

"Spit it out, Mary, holding on to it won't do anybody any good here."

She swallowed hard. "My old boss contacted me."

His eyes widened. "What? Mary, I thought you were done for good!" He cried. "I-you-we have a child now!"

“So did I,” she sighed. “But with you gone, the only thing I have left is Athena, and if my past catches up with me she could get hurt. I’m dangerous, John.”

"So...so what is it, are you killing drug kingpins or what's the deal?"

"I'm not sure yet. But he's offering me my old position, which if I told you I would have to blow you to bits with the semiautomatic in my purse.The point is, John...I’m leaving. You have to understand, it breaks my heart, but I have to leave Athena behind. If I don’t accept this offer, my boss will probably go after me - I know too much.” Mary was crying quietly now, her hands shaking.

"So....oh my god. You want me to take Athena." His eyes widened. "Mary, it's not like mine's any nicer! We chase terrorists and murderers and rapists and-"

“She deserves a normal life, John! A safe life! And she deserves to have at least one good parent.” Mary took a deep breath. “This is breaking my heart, John. I get a few days with my baby, and then I’m done. I mean I can visit from time to time, but she’ll grow up without really knowing who I am. It’s best that way.”

"So...this is it." He said quietly. 

Mary nodded, placing a hand on his cheek. “I’m leaving tomorrow night. If it’s alright, I’ll drop her off at Baker Street tomorrow afternoon. John, I’m so sorry.”

He swallowed hard. He took Mary in his arms, and rested his forehead against hers.

"I'm sorry about this whole mess." She whispered. "But it's going to be alright. And I'm not mad. I'm sorry I was such a jerk."

“I know,” John breathed. He hesitated, staring into Mary’s eyes. Slowly, he leaned in and brushed his lips on hers. Their last kiss. “I’ll miss you, Mary Watson,” he said, his voice breaking.

"I'll miss her too.”


	10. Chapter 9

Back at 221B, the group sat, studying papers and maps, poring over books and instructions.

Sherlock's phone buzzed. John's name popped up on the screen.

Home in a few. Got a surprise for you tomorrow. JW

Sherlock closed the phone and frowned. Not only had John called Baker Street home, but he had a surprise.

"Surprise had better mean cigarettes." He muttered. 

"Alright, I've had about as much as I can take." Dean's voice rang through the quiet apartment. "Let's wait for John to get back, and then I say we go out for a drink or two." Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed.

"I'm going to have to pass." He responded. "Getting shitfaced on a case isn't exactly the most productive way to approach it, in my opinion, but whatever floats your boat." 

"I'm going to have agree with Sherlock." Hermione nodded. "I'll stick home."

Cas looked torn. “I won’t drink, but it would be nice to go out and socialise for a while.” He said wistfully.

Dean cleared his throat and leaned in to talk to Cas quietly. “Cas, it’s alright if you wanna stay here, I get it. Sam and I will be fine.”

"No, I want to go. It should be fun!" Cas said cheerfully.

"We'll go." Harry said, gesturing to Ron. "Ginny, coming with?"

She blushed and took Harry's arm, grinning. "Of course."

Sherlock huffed. “Well if you’re going, please go. I’ll send John along when he arrives. But for God’s sake, if you get home at 2am please don’t make a racket and avoid anything flammable. Some of us will be working.”

"Again, life of the party, aren't you, Holmes?" Dean said, sarcasm oozing in his voice. It was indifferent to Sherlock- party pooper was one of the politer names people used for him.

Sam chuckled. “It’s alright, Sherlock, Dean and I can hold our liquore.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see.”

The group arrived at the local bar, a nice little joint named The Dog And Partridge. They sat at the bar and ordered a round. 

"What do you guys want?" Sam asked. “Drinks are on us!”

"Three butter beers." They said cheerfully. Dean suddenly began laughing hysterically.

"Dude, I don't know what that is, but that sounds like the weakest, girliest drink I've ever heard of." He turned to the bartender. "What's one of your stronger mixes?" 

"We do one called the Green Lantern." The bartender replied, giving the group a disbelieving look.

"What's in it?"

"To put it lightly, some pretty gnarly stuff."

"We'll take five. Sorry Sam, we need you to direct us back later, and I refuse to let Cas zapp us back." Dean replied, grinning. Cas shifted uncomfortably and tapped Dean’s shoulder. “Yeah, Cas?”

“Is this going to give me another headache, Dean?”

Dean chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, Cas, I know the perfect hangover remedy.”

Four rounds of Green Lanterns later, Harry was drunkenly trying to teach Dean Parseltongue.

"No-no you gotta---hsssaakaaaaaaa." Harry said, spraying Dean in spit.

"Hsssakaaaa?" Dean tried.

"Yeah, yeah. That means your mum is fat, ugly lizard."

"What'd you say about my mom?" Dean asked angrily.

Sam rolled his eyes, suppressing laughter and placing down his empty beer bottle. "Dean, calm down, he has no idea what he’s saying."

"Okay, okay, my turn....I spy...." Castiel trailed off.

"Is it Sam?" Ginny asked, squinting at Sam.

Cas slammed his arms down on the table miserably."Yeah, how'd you know?"

"You said him the last fifteen times."

"Ginny, the room is spinny." Ron said, hiccuping. "Heeeeey, that rhymed!"

Sam laughed. “Alright you guys, I think you’ve all had far too much. Let’s get you all back to Baker Street.”

"Waaaait, wasn't the short one gonna come?" Dean asked, hiccuping.

"Dean, this is the sixth time you've asked. John decided he didn't want to come drink, he just went home and slept."

"Well, that's no funnn." Harry argued. "Hey, Dean-hssssssaka."

"SHUT UP ABOUT MY MOM." Dean roared.

“OKAY TIME TO GO!” Sam yelled, hauling Ron’s arm around his neck and staggering towards the door. Ginny helped Harry up, seeing as she wasn’t as drunk as the rest, and Dean and Castiel fell out of the door, laughing with their arms around each other’s necks, supporting one another.

"Castiel, have ever told you how pretty your hair is?" Dean asked, his words slurring and flipping Cas' hair.

"Nooooo, but thank you, I think so too.” Cas mumbled. “I like your hair more though." He said, touching the spiky hair and giggling. “You’re like a hedgehog….a….a grumpy hedgehog.” With that, the two collapsed in fits of laughter, holding onto each other with tears streaming down their faces. Sam turned around to look, confused.

“It wasn’t even that funny, guys!” Sam shook his head and continued helping Ron through the street.

"Caaaaaaaas."

"Deeeeeeean." 

"You're pretty for a boy, Cas." Dean affirmed. “And you’re not a bad angel. Most of them are idiots, but don’t tell them I said that.” He placed a finger on his lips, representing that Cas should keep quiet.

"Thank you, you aren't too bad yourself."

Meanwhile, back at Baker Street, Sherlock typed away while Hermione studied the map.

"You noticed it too." Hermione said suddenly. Sherlock looked up. 

"What?"

"Dean and Cas. You saw it, too."

He closed his computer. "Don't be silly. They're like teenagers. Incredibly obvious to everyone except themselves. Even Sam noticed." He huffed.

"Right. A lot like you and Watson." She confronted.

"John? Please. I have standards." Sherlock muttered, and listened to Hermione’s laugh.

"Ouch. Anyways, come on Sherlock. I passed with flying colors in muggle and wizarding school, but it takes no expert to deduce that you have a schoolboy crush on John." She snorted. "You stare at him with absolutely no decency, you hang on his every word, you pick up your phone at the first text from him. Come on now. Don't insult my intelligence."

Sherlock had turned a rare shade of pink. "I assure you, Miss Granger, I don't have a crush on John Watson."

Hermione frowned. "You just said it yourself though. It's obvious to everybody but themselves. What are you so afraid of?”

"Hurting him!" Sherlock blurted suddenly. "Good god, the man has been to hell and back, and I am no better. For god's sakes, I let him believe I was dead for three years! And then I showed up and expected him to just welcome me home! I was so selfish and arrogant and he doesn't need me! He deserves so much better than anything I could give him." He collapsed, burying his face in his arms. Hermione, taken aback by this sudden outburst of emotion from and otherwise sociopathic man, sat beside him and patted his back.

"Better? Sherlock, you were there for him through everything. You still are. If anything, you're exactly what he deserves."

"No I'm not." Came Sherlock's muffled voice. "I'm a cold, heartless bastard, and I will hurt him."

"But you need to try. You need to try, for him. If any part of you loves him-"

"For god's sakes, Hermione, of course I love him! With every godforsaken bone in my body! Since the day I met him, I was in love! I would rather die than lose him!" He cried. He suddenly realized what he had said, and covered his mouth.

"So you do love him." She said softly, smiling gently. 

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Here we go."

"I'm not going to give you hell for it. But I'm telling you- I will bet anything he loves you too." 

“Hermione, John is not gay. He’s married, for Heaven’s sake!”

"Recently divorced. Let’s think about this logically. He said himself he loves Mary, and we know she’s a good, loving wife, so why would he divorce her, unless he realised he was gay, or at least bisexual? And Sherlock, tell me, where did he go when he was staying away?"

"He....he came here." Sherlock said softly. "My door was always open."

She nodded triumphantly. "Because who else would he want to be with? Who else could be around? Who does he trust?"

"That means nothing."

"That means everything. If it makes you feel better, I tried to beat the living hell out of Ron after he came back from running away. Long story, I was prepared to curse him into oblivion. But love is the people you come back to. And you two come back to each other." She smiled again. 

Sherlock looked up at Hermione with wide, hopeful eyes, and he was no longer the consulting detective, no longer the sociopath with no emotions and no attachments. He was a just a boy, looking for comfort. 

"But....how do I tell him? How do I say it?" He asked worriedly. "What if he says no? What if-"

Hermione pressed a finger to his lips. “Sherlock. If he says no, then at least you know how he feels. And as for telling him….give him time. He just divorced his heavily pregnant wife and had his world thrown upside down with magic and demons. Wait, that reminds me….” Hermione nudged Sherlock off his chair and sat down, typing rapidly. “John wasn’t affected by the muggle repelling spell.”

Sherlock frowned, and peered at the computer screen. Hermione paused, deep in thought. “Does John have any close relatives? Siblings, cousins….?”

“A sister, he has a sister. Harriet Watson. They were separated as children but found each other a few years ago. She’s a recovering alcoholic, but that’s about all I could find out about her.”

"Where do they come from?" Hermione asked.

"John told me an uptown orphanage in London. They moved into a foster home after an incident with the sister."

"What kind of incident?" Hermione asked, brow furrowed intently.

Sherlock shrugged. "There isn’t a lot to go on, the report isn’t clear. A boy in the orphanage had lured some of the older kids to a cave on a visit to the beach, and whatever it is he showed them, or did to them, in there, they never quite recovered. The other two, a boy and a girl, were diagnosed with insanity and sent to live in an asylum. Only Harriet made it out, but her trauma lead her to alcoholism. Tragic, really.” 

Hermione’s look of confusion had transformed into one of horror. 

"What?" He asked worriedly.

“Sherlock,” she said quietly. “I need the name of that orphanage. Now.”

Sherlock nodded, and ran quickly to his room, pulling a Manila file from his nightstand.

"It's a file of John's, I keep it around for....reasons."

Hermione took the file, and flipped through the various pages. Dates, numbers, addresses….

"Found it!" She cried. She pulled a piece of paper away from the rest and read the small print. “Stockwell Orphanage, London,” she recited.

Sherlock typed it into his computer, and after some digging managed to print out a copy of the report. “Looks like a young boy named Tom Riddle was the culprit,” he muttered. "Quite a bully, transferred to a special school by an Albus Du- are you okay?"

Hermione had gasped and staggered back, hand across her mouth. Sherlock advanced, because she looked like she was about to faint. “Who is he?”

Hermione shook her head, and Sherlock was surprised to see that tears shone in her eyes. “Lord Voldemort,” she whispered. “John’s sister was tortured by Lord Voldemort.”


	11. Chapter 10

"So you're telling me that Lord Voldemort messed up John's sister?" Harry asked, in disbelief. He absentmindedly rubbed his scar, and Ginny sat down beside him, weak at the knees. Hermione nodded solemnly.

It was the morning after, and Harry, Ron and Ginny were nursing hangovers. Sam was cooking up breakfast for everyone, Sherlock was sat staring at John, reading his reaction. Dean and Cas, however, were not part of the group. They lay on the couch, unconscious after staggering in late that night and collapsing. They hadn’t fallen entirely gracefully, and were a tangle of arms, legs, and trench coat.

John hadn’t managed to tell Sherlock about Mary and Athena yet. He needed more time to process the fact that he was a father, and would be raising Athena alone. He also had to face the possibility that he would never see Mary again.

As if this wasn’t bad enough, the news that his newly-found sister had been tortured as a child, only made his day worse. Even Sherlock, who prided himself on snarking John’s self pity, was sat quietly.

“What, er….what happened next?” John asked, accepting a plate of omelet and bacon from Sam with a nod of thanks. “I mean, when we moved orphanages we were separated, and didn’t find each other again until we were in our mid twenties.”

Hermione took a deep breath and looked John in the eye. “John, we believe Harriet went to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. She was a witch, John. She had magic.”

John stared at Hermione, mouth gaping open in shock. Hermione bit her lip, and Sherlock took over, talking quietly. “We think that when you were moved from your orphanage, Dumbledore, the headmaster at Hogwarts, made the choice to give you a muggle life.”

“Hogwarts letters aren’t missed,” Harry interjected, remembering the millions that were delivered to his door. “Dumbledore believed it would be safer for you to live your life as a muggle. You’re a wizard, John.”

John sat in stunned silence, blinking rapidly. He cleared his throat. “I’m….I’m a what?”

Ginny grinned and Harry rolled his eyes. “A wizard. Like us. But you haven’t been trained, you’ve got no experience.” 

John rubbed his temples. “That’s why the muggle repelling charm didn’t work on me.” The group nodded.

They were interrupted by a sudden groan from the sofa. They looked up to see Dean emerging from the trench coat, looking as though he’d never felt worse in all his life. Sam chuckled. “Morning, sleeping beauty. How was your nap?”

Dean groaned again and put his head in his hands. “What the hell was in those shots?” He mumbled. He looked down at the couch, and realised that he was entangled with Cas. “What the hell Cas….” he muttered, standing up and letting Castiel’s limbs fall onto the sofa. He woke with a start, and immediately put his head in his hands.

“You said I wouldn’t get a headache, Dean.”

“Actually, I said I had a hangover remedy. Sorry man.”

Sam chuckled. “That’ll teach you to try foreign drinks.” He helped Castiel up off the sofa and handed him a glass. Cas sniffed it cautiously.

“What’s in it?” 

“My remedy,” Dean said, grabbing a glass and downing it. Cas, looking miserable, downed it too, and went on to have a coughing fit. Dean laughed, patting the angel’s back. “Got quite a kick, huh?”

Cas scowled and set the glass down on the table. He and Dean were informed of the progress that had been made, and it was decided that the day would be dedicated to nursing hangovers and researching.


	12. Chapter 12

Hermione pulled out a map that included a maze of vents and back doors.

“So we can’t just bippity boppity boop ourselves in?” Dean asked disappointedly. 

Ron rolled his eyes. “If we do that, we could alert the horcruxes and whatever’s guarding them to our presence. We need catch it by surprise.” 

“There’s also the possibility that someone could splinch,” Harry said grimly. “We don’t know exactly where to land, so it’s more dangerous.”

“John, Sherlock, we need you to get on the roof and crawl in through this vent here.” Hermione pointed to a narrow vent on the roof. John groaned. “I’m really getting too old for this.” 

“Me and Harry will enter the main door to have a look around and let you know what we find.” Ginny declared.

“Sam, stay with Ron and Hermione, you’re gonna be lookouts. Perch yourself around the perimeter. Cas, you’re with me,” Dean motioned to the back of the shop.

“Where are we going?” Cas asked.

“There’s a back door that we can enter. That is, if we can enter it without being seen. Security probably won’t buy that we’re looking for cursed, possessed objects.” He looked to Ginny and Harry. “Buy us time, so we can get in. Sherlock and John will be our affirmatives in the vents.”

Before everybody went their separate ways, Dean and Sam made sure each member of the group was equipped with salt and holy water. Dean patted Sam on the back and the teams split up quietly.

Sherlock and John crept around back. 

“Look for a ladder, anything that could be a possible way up.” Sherlock said. They perused the wall.

“Wait...let me try something. It worked on the paper at home, so let me try it.” John said. He squeezed his eyes tightly, and suddenly, Sherlock felt himself leave the ground.

“John!” He cried as he slowly ascended up the wall.

“Is it working?” he asked, still squeezing his eyes closed.

“John, put me down!” 

John opened his eyes, and raised an eyebrow. “Mate, you’re about twenty feet above ground. You sure about that?”

Sherlock sighed and rubbed his temples. “Fine.But let me look for a ladder once I get to the top.”

“Whoopsies.” John said, and Sherlock fell a few feet.

“John, focus please!” Sherlock said through gritted teeth.

John snickered. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

Dean and Cas surrounded the door in the back of the shop.

“Okay...how’re we gonna do this?” Dean asked. He started pacing. “Maybe...if Harry and....no, maybe....”

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Cas stood in the doorway.

“Or you could’ve just asked me to unlock it.” Cas said.

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

Harry and Ginny nervously walked around the store. 

“Can I help you?” A kindly voice asked. They looked up to see a blonde woman with a wide, perfect smile.

“Hi, we’re looking for an engagement ring.” Harry said quickly. 

She smiled knowingly. “Awh, that’s sweet. How long?”

“Six years.” Ginny said with a small smile. She figured the truth wouldn’t hurt.

“Wonderful. I’m Caroline, I will be helping you with your choices. Now, are we looking into price or style?”

John dusted himself off on the rooftop. “Convenient ladder.” He said. 

“You don’t say.” Sherlock said. “John, please practice your levitating skills before testing them out on people again.”

“Will do.” John nodded. He looked down the vent. “Well...that must be it, then.” He took out the pocket screwdriver in his jeans and unscrewed the top off. he slid his legs in and gripped the metal siding. He slid down quickly, landing with a loud thud on the metal. He winced, before realizing he was alone.

“Sherlock? Sherlo-” OOF.

“Sorry, John, thought you moved.” Sherlock said, dusting himself off. John cracked his neck and rubbed his back 

“You could’ve called a warning, idiot.” John growled, crawling along the metal siding.

“Sound echoes in these vents. Try to shut up.”

John rolled his eyes and continued to crawl, until they came to an opening where light filtered through. It went straight down into the main section of the jewelry store. John spotted Harry and Ginny, who were speaking to a blonde woman. He made eye contact with Harry, who gave him a swift nod.

Dean and Cas perused the back shelves, looking for anything that hinted at demonic activity.

“Absolutely nothing.” Cas murmured. He looked to the white door that led to the main part of the store. “Unless...”

“Unless what, Cas?” Dean asked, irate.

“Unless they put it out there.” he pointed to the door. Dean’s face drained of color. 

“Everybody in that store is in imminent danger.” He said quietly. 

Suddenly, a quiet knock came from above. Dean looked up and locked eyes with John.

“Little help?” John smiled sheepishly.

Ginny and Harry browsed the displays, looking for anything that slightly resembled a horcrux.

Suddenly, Ginny was struck by a pair of sparkling, black and silver earrings, in the shape of slender opals. 

“There.” She whispered, pointing to the earrings. Harry walked over to the display and pointed to the earrings.

“She likes those.” Harry said simply. The woman frowned. 

“I thought you were looking for engagement rings.” She said, her brow furrowed. 

“Yes well...those are simply to die for.” Ginny said exaggeratedly. 

“Those were given to us by an anonymous donor. The rock is fashioned out of pure obsidian. Treated, of course.” She smiled, and she blinked. Harry saw her eyes flicker to coal black, and back to blue. 

He squeezed Ginny’s hand, and she squeezed back, affirming that she saw it too. 

“Are you sure those are the ones you want?” She asked, a little too sweet for Harry’s comfort.

“Yes.” He nodded enthusiastically. 

“Then would you mind coming to the back room with me very quickly? I can wrap them for you.” She smiled that sugary smile again, and Harry thought he was going to throw up.

“Ye-yeah, sure.” He said. He tucked his hand in his back pocket, and rested it on his wand. He watched Ginny copy him.

With shaking steps, they approached the white door. She led them inside, and closed the door softly behind them. Suddenly, her eyes morphed, turning coal black again, and she loomed over them.

“Fools-” She began, advancing on them.

“Surprise, honey!” A voice came. Dean charged from the shadows, tossing salt at her. She hissed and screamed as it touched her skin, and dropped the earrings. 

“Sherlock, grab those!” Harry cried. Sherlock dove for the earrings, whilst John and Dean tossed salt at the demon. Cas had gone to get Sam, Ron, and Hermione out front. 

The demon, however, put up quite a struggle, dodging the aims of John and Dean. Without quite thinking, Harry raised his wand.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Harry cried. The body froze, but a black, smoke-like figure arose from her mouth. It seemed to look around for a second before setting its sights on Sherlock. His eyes widened as the smoke forced his mouth open.

“SHERLOCK!” John screamed at the demon stole Sherlock’s body.

Inside, Sherlock felt his mind palace fill with oozing blackness. Every corner was filled with heavy, thick darkness. It burned his insides. He couldn’t scream, but he could hear himself screaming in his head.

He can’t hear you, a voice unlike any he had ever heard taunted.

GET OUT! Sherlock cried, but again it was silent. He struggled against his bindings. John shook him. 

“Sherlock! Sherlock!” John screamed as Dean forced him away.

“John, that’s not him, it’s whatever son of a bitch has taken him!” Dean yelled. “Where the hell is Sam??!!”

John, get out! Sherlock cried.

Hmm...what have we here? The voice came again. Sherlock could feel his memories being watched. It felt unnatural and invasive. He silently prayed that he wouldn’t look at the ones of him and John..

Aw, looks like you and John have a little thing going here, the voice cackled. but what’s this? Anger? Neglect? Sadness, at a wedding? Now, who is sad at weddings, dear Sherlock?

Sherlock felt his mouth open, but the words that poured forth were not his. 

“What a pathetic little creature!” It laughed with Sherlock’s voice, and Sherlock wanted to start sobbing, breaking down. “He was so angry at you, John! For being so ignorant! Couldn’t you see, he loved you?” The creature sneered.

John staggered backwards. “What-”

“Don’t listen to him!” Dean cried. 

“Ah, yes, he loved you, John Watson. And he was angry. Angry that you never noticed. Angry that you never cared. Angry that when he left, you moved on! He became a broken, pathetic excuse for a human, barely able to function.” The demon snarled. “And the wedding. It was all he had not to fall apart, to beg you to stay. Simply couldn’t bear the thought of life without you.” It threw its head back, laughing.

Suddenly, Sam burst in the door, took one look at possessed Sherlock, and started chanting. 

“You’re an ignorant moron, John. What an ignorant, worthless moron. The great Sherlock Holmes never needed you, but oh he wanted you. But personally, I don’t blame you. What a needy whore. The great Sherlock Holmes, reduced to a blithering puddle by some stupid army doctor that didn’t give rat’s ass about him to start with.”

Sam started speaking in rapid latin, and Cas joined forces with Dean, throwing salt and holy water. The demon dodged and jumped, continuing to bait John. “Oh, the thoughts he has about you, John! The way his world revolves entirely around you! And how jealous he is! Not just of Mary but…..but of the baby! What’s her name….Athena?” The demon cackled. “The great Sherlock Holmes in love with John Watson!” With that, Sam rounded off the exorcism and the black smoke was ejected from Sherlock’s body, leaving his unconscious on the ground.

“Sherlock!” John yelled, running to his aid. Cas was already there, and had his hand on Sherlock’s head. “He’s alright,” Cas sighed with relief. “I’ll wake him now.”

Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open and he came to, coughing. He was helped to his feet, and nodded when asked if he was alright. His face burned red, and his eyes stayed glued to the floor.


End file.
